


We’re not Friends

by RainingPrince



Series: Theoretically Canon-Compliant but largely unrelated Good Omens shorts [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Extrapolation from canon, Food, Gen, Michael’s pronoun is Michael, Mistreatment of plants, The Diner in Des Moines, don’t pay too much attention to the settings, let's talk about feelings while not talking about feelings, playing fast and loose with history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainingPrince/pseuds/RainingPrince
Summary: How did Michael end up with Ligur’s number?
Relationships: Ligur & Michael (Good Omens)
Series: Theoretically Canon-Compliant but largely unrelated Good Omens shorts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1594831
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	We’re not Friends

Michael wasn’t sent to Earth all that frequently. In the first few centuries it had been for general holy tasks: spiritual messages from God to Her people, divine inspirations, the occasional smiting. A couple run-ins with Lucifer here and there, back when he’d still given a damn (pun not intended) about showing his face. He hadn’t really been topside in a few millennia, so Michael had eventually been reassigned.

But now and again Michael still ended up on Earth with some objective or another, be it minor blessings or supervising human events. Most of the time it was dreadfully boring, if not dull or tiresome. Sometimes Michael got lucky and a job was simply banal.

Michael had also spent some time as an advocate, and that had been… a time.

Still, a job is a job.

It was on just such a job that Michael happened to run into someone unpleasant.

It was a rainy day in the middle of… oh, perhaps the late 1400s? Michael was just getting off a trading ship, a couple of well-placed miracles over and done with, and was about to be headed northeast to some miserable town with a forgettable name. There was to be a festival in celebration of the saints, and Michael had been mildly curious to check it out.

“Miserable weather we’re ‘avin’ ain’t it, featherbrain?”

Michael hesitated only a fraction of a second before dropping the foot that had been up mid stride and turned to look at who had spoken. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, miserable weather we’re ‘avin’. Don’t like the rain, s’too wet.”

The stranger smelled of brimstone, a hint of sulfur, and various species of mold. It was very difficult to avoid scrunching one’s nose at such a perfume; and yet Michael, ever the diplomat, managed to keep a straight face. “I hadn’t noticed.”

In fact, Michael had noticed, and had simply miracled the water to slide straight off onto the ground. Not a drop could be seen on Michael’s immaculate houppelande.

The demon grunted, his watery eyes slipping up and down over Michael’s visage. “That’s a good idea,” he said thoughtfully and performed a similar magic. The chameleon on his head shifted, visibly relieved. “So, what are you here for?”

“I was just leaving, actually.” Michael said, and began to walk away again.

“You get done with your chores already, featherbrain?” The demon called out.

Michael declined to point out that demons also had wings, and that the intended pejorative impact of “featherbrain” was… well, redundant.

“I’m all done with my job for the day,” said the demon, suddenly appearing in lockstep beside the angel. “Would you like to hear how I’ve tempted a hopeful priest with thoughts of adultery?”

“I really don’t care.” Michael said, entirely truthfully. There was somewhere Michael had plans to be, and getting there was suddenly far more of a priority than it had seemed a few minutes ago. If only to get away from the foul fiend seemingly intent on making small talk.

Small talk was one of those things that was big in heaven, if only because big talk was so frowned upon. Anything more than cordial hellos and straight spines was often met with narrowed eyes and less-than-subtle inquiries into how one was feeling. “Might you be experiencing a little bit of extra heaviness lately? Feeling the pull of gravity? You know what happens to angels who ask questions.” It was rarely said in so many words, but the attitude was noticeable. Michael would never admit it but there were occasions when a trip to a festival or a few extra nights spent on assignment sounded more appealing than returning to Heaven.

He proceeded to share details anyway. “He fancies a local girl who got married a few years ago. She’s got two children. When I’m done with him, her next brat’ll be his.”

At that, Michael’s nose did wrinkle. “That’s vulgar.”

“That’s craftsmanship. It’s taken three months to get him to ask her for a drink after service. Next month, I bet she’ll be dropping her knickers in the vestry.”

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through just for one temptation,” murmured the Archangel.

“What, like you could do better?” The demon demanded.

Michael’s nostrils flared, as did the massive wings tucked neatly into the aether. “I said nothing of the sort.”

“Ah, so the angel has a spine after all.” The demon grinned. “I haven’t met too many angels, but those who ‘ave usually describe your lot as blithering idiots with sticks up their bums.”

“You’re the blithering idiot who never thought to miracle the rain off.” Michael snapped.

“Piss off!” Said the demon cheerfully. “Where are you off to then? To go do whatever good you’re up to?”

“Unlike some people, my business is my business, and I’m not about to go spilling secrets to the opposition.”

The demon continued to grin. “Sure, sure. I bet it’s boring.” A flicker of something must have passed over Michael’s face, because the demon grinned even wider. “It’s not boring! What is it then, out with it.”

“No.”

“Come on, tell us!”

“No!”

“Aww, you’re no fun!” The demon did not look all that put out. In fact, Michael had a hard time placing the expression on his face.

“I’m not meant to be fun, I’m meant to be efficient.” It was a line, Michael knew that. A platitude designed to be repeated and internalized. In this instance it was a vaguely annoyed attempt to get the occult being to leave and cease his bothersome… everything. “Speaking of efficiency, perhaps it would make my life easier if I just smite you, and be on my way, since you seem so intent on distracting me.”

At that, the demon paled, and his footsteps faltered. “Are you serious?”

Michael said nothing.

After a few moments he spoke up again. “I don’t think you’re serious, I’d give you a run for your money and make you late to your job. You look like the type to care about tardiness. Angels are such sticklers for rules.”

“Care to find out?” Michael turned and raised one perfect eyebrow.

He considered Michael for a few seconds, before stopping and planting his feet. “Nah. Don’t feel like it.” He sniffed. Michael didn’t even turn back to watch as he sank through the ground toward Hell.

::

Decades later, Michael was sent to a party.

Well, not so much a party as an Event, capital E. The entire palace was done up in official regalia, and there were representatives from seven different Countries in the palace.The festivities were set to start soon and the Prince was the main attraction. It was his wedding day, and he was nowhere to be found. The King and Queen were both trying very hard to hide their panic from their guests. The Prince's betrothed was perched on a stool in a back room, wringing her hands and trying not to get tears on her dress.

Michael had been sent to look for the Prince, and had been looking for quite a while already. It shouldn’t have been too hard to find him, but there were too many people and Michael got a little confused in any human situation when it wasn’t a war. On the battleground, things were so straightforward, Us vs. Them, Good vs. Evil. You fought and you killed and you died and that was that.

The political implications of a teenage boy’s feelings were way, way out of Michael’s wheelhouse. Why, oh why hadn’t Gabriel sent Aziraphale for this? Michael puzzled. He was so much better at this sort of thing...

Someone bumped into Michael with a loud swear.

When Michael turned to look it was the same demon from decades ago, dark skin and grimy hair, still wearing the same tattered coat. His reptilian companion was currently camouflaged. “You!” Michael hissed.

The demon, already a few steps away, turned to look toward the voice and frowned. “Do I know you?” He asked.

“We met on the docks a few decades ago. You regaled me with a tale of a priest you planned to corrupt. You called me ‘featherbrain.”

The demon grimaced. “Ah, that. Fell through. Dunno why, but ‘e took off a few days later and I lost track of ‘im.” His expression turned to offence. “Wait, was that you?”

“I will not confirm nor deny any involvement. What are you doing here?”

“Nunya,” the demon stuck his tongue out and turned to walk away. “Piss off.”

“I will not ‘piss off’. I have orders and I can’t risk you getting in the way. I’m going to have to ask that you leave, or I’ll be forced to smite you.”

He froze mid step and peered over his shoulder. “I’m here to make sure this wedding goes through.” He admits.

“What?” Michael was taken aback. Of all the possible answers... “Why?”

“I said, nunya.” He spat. “Gotta find the Prince.”

“I… I’m also looking for the Prince.” Oops, Michael thought. I’ve already given too much away! And then, Michael paused for a moment.

What were the implications that the demon was here with the same objective? Michael hated to think he would get to the Prince first, he probably had any number of awful ideas. It would be such a headache to explain to Head Office that Oh yes, about that last assignment; I accidentally lost my charge in a race with a glorified lizard and now the entire plan has gone off the rails, so sorry about that.

Better to keep an eye on him, then.

“Would… Do you think we should look together?”

“Do what you like.” The demon shrugged and began to shuffle off again.

Michael quickly caught up, and they took turns looking into rooms and calling out.

“You’d think they couldn’t fit so bloody many rooms in a castle that looks so much smaller from the outside,” The demon grumbled, “How do they even fit so many rooms in one tower?”

“The wonders of human ingenuity,” Michael said, a little scathingly, “Where could he possibly be?”

“Why haven’t you smote me yet?” The demon demanded, though he didn’t look at the angel.

“You haven’t actually given me reason to,” Michael popped open another door, looked inside,“Yet.”

“Yet,” the demon mocked quietly. “Aren’t you Michael? Archangel, all high and mighty, enthusiastically smite-y?”

Michael snorted. “Yes my name is Michael. I don’t feel inclined to confirm or deny the rest.”

“‘Confirm or deny’, you sound like a lawyer.” The demon flashed his dirty teeth. “Lawyers are ever so much fun to tempt. They like to overthink.”

Michael ignored him in favor of calling out into the room. “Hello? Is anyone in here?”

“I’m Ligur, Duke of Hell,” Ligur preened a little, “You may have heard of me, recently got promoted and all.”

“Mmmmnope, can’t say as I have.” Michael shut the door and continued down the hall; didn’t look back to check if Ligur was at all embarrassed.

The wedding was almost half an hour behind schedule when they found the boy. He’d been hiding away in a stall in the stables, brushing a horse and trying to hold back tears.

Ethereal and occult forces combined made short work of convincing him to return to the hall and go through with the wedding. Michael discreetly miracled the Prince clean so he’d look nice for the ceremony. The smell of horse manure was a bit harder to remove. Oh well, hygiene wasn’t the best this day and age anyway.

As they watched him go, Michael frowned in thought. “Why were you supposed to encourage this match?”

“Why were you?” Ligur shot back.

“They are supposed to have a son together who will rule for a very long time, and hopefully build strong peace relations.”

“The bride has a lover, and the Prince doesn’t like girls,” Ligur shuffled awkwardly from side to side, “They’ll be miserable.”

::

It had been well over a hundred and fifty years since last they’d spoken, so when Michael found Ligur in a run-down pub on the outskirts of Spain, the Archangel’s first instinct was to turn around and leave. Michael had no business here, having finished the blessing that had brought Michael to town in the first place. It was the end of a long day, too many things had gone wrong, and all Michael wanted was a quiet corner in a loud room to dissociate in.

Not a very typical angelic behavior but we all have our vices.

Ligur was sitting on a stool at the bar, a massive jug of something in his hand, leaned over to whisper in the ear of a human who looked more or less ready to succumb to alcohol poisoning. He was focused and efficient, spinning Temptation into the human’s head. Michael didn’t know how long he’d been at it, but after a few moments the human finally stood up and left the pub, neglecting to leave behind any sort of payment. The human looked determined. Michael briefly considered going after them and undoing whatever magic Ligur had been doing, before deciding Michael was off the clock and didn’t actually care all that much.

The angel finally moved from the corner and dropped down into the seat the human had been occupying just moments before. Michael didn’t look at Ligur. “Job well done?”

“Well well well, if it isn’t fuss-wings! I’d say job very well done, thanks for asking.” He grinned that massive grin again, the one Michael found endlessly annoying, and took a long swig from his mug. “What’s got you in town, then?”

“Blessings on a child, a wedding and two separate business endeavors. Why they sent an Archangel for such things escapes me, but a job is a job.” Michael sighed and leaned into one hand against the counter.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Michael’s nose scrunched up. “I’ve never tried alcohol. It always smelled disgusting.”

“That’s the point.” Ligur shrugged and waved a hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Oi, get something sweet for fuss-wings here to drink!” He called out loudly.

Michael wasn’t really sure what sweet meant, having never tasted food or drink before. Sure, Michael had a vague understanding that cake meant sweet, fish meant umami, certain herbs meant bitter; but without having experienced those tastes, Michael didn't know what those words meant.

A cup of what might be wine thudded unceremoniously in front of Michael, who eyed it with suspicion. “What is it?”

“Doesn’t really matter, the end result is the same. You drink a lot, you get pissed.”

“What if I don’t like it?”

“No one does at first, you get used to it.” He grinned again and motioned to the cup. “Go on, it can’t hurt you.”

It was true. Being a celestial being meant that there wasn’t really anything Michael could imbibe that might pose an actual threat to health or life. Except Hellfire, but Michael had a hard time imagining just how one might hide Hellfire in a cup of liquid. It did smell awful. Michael hesitantly took a sip and winced bodily, shoulders hunching and face crumpling. “I don’t think I like sweet.”

“No? You look like someone who would like sweet.” There he went again, you look like someone who, what does he mean by that? “Maybe it’s just whatever that is, sometimes you get sweet mixed with other shit. Keep trying, you’ll find your poison eventually.”

Michael looked down into the cup and winced again. “What does being drunk feel like?”

“Being drunk?” Ligur thought for a moment. “‘S like, you feel all wobbly, and the world goes fuzzy around the edges, and you think less. S’fun.” Michael noticed that he was already slurring his words.

Michael considered this, remembering many stolen moments in the back corner of bars and taverns just trying to stop thinking. Considering the wine again, Michael took a tentative second sip and held it on the tongue. It was still awful, but the initial shock had dissipated, and the longer Michael paid attention, the more flavors became noticeable. Michael swallowed, and then took a great big gulp to try and get it down as fast as possible. “It’s disgusting.” Another gulp.

Ligur laughed, a deep belly laugh, and slapped the counter. “Next, you should try hard liquor!”

~

“So, you’ve finally tried alcohol, what’s the verdict?” Ligur turned in his seat to look at Michael, his expression impish.

“I think alcohol is disgusting, but it helps you skip the small talk and go straight to laughing at absolutely nothing.” Michael hiccuped, covering a mouth that stank of several different drinks, and laughed.

“What have you got against small talk?” The demon asked, eyeing the bartender who seemed dubious about serving either of them any more. “What even is ‘small talk’ anyway? Is it jus’ where you… talk real small?” He blinked watery eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration, then softened his voice to speak through pouted lips. “Looike dis?”

Michael’s head tilted to the side in contemplation. “It's not so much small talk as it is surface talk. There’s so little to say to one another, and it’s both a relief not to share and also tiresome. Sometimes I just wish I could talk to someone, really speak and feel listened to. I don’t even think I have much of anything special to say, I just don’t want to censor every bloody word that leaves my mouth.”

Ligur laughed and flashed his teeth. “No one would ever believe me if I told them I got to hear an Archangel swear!” He declared gleefully.

“Neither of us tells anyone about this,.” Michael said, feeling strangely put out about it.

“You gonna keep me on as your dirty little secret?” Ligur teased.

“Neither of us is really supposed to be interacting with each other. So no, really, we’re mutual secrets. Is that how you say that? You know what, I don’t care.” Michael took another swig.

“Like I’d trust you not to rag on me.”

“Of course you can trust me. I’m an angel.”

“Can I ask a question?--” Ligur started. Michael peered at him curiously and motioned for him to continue. “Why are you still here? You said you had blessings to do. I’ve never known an angel to do anything but follow orders.”

Michael grew quiet. 

“What?” Ligur asked after several seconds. “You okay?”

Michael wanted to laugh, all of a sudden. Here was a demon, a literal fiend of hell, asking after Michael with what looked like real concern. “No, I’m bloody not. I’m suffocated, and tired, and Heaven isn’t what it used to be. It used to be warm and welcoming, now it’s just quiet and empty. No one talks about anything and I find myself procrastinating at every possible turn just to stay away for a few days, hours, minutes, more. I finished all my blessings hours ago and instead of going back I’ve holed up in a tavern with the opposition looking for comfort at the bottom of a glass. Funny enough, I actually found that comfort for once; and it came of breaking the rules. I don’t know how to deal with that. I’m not okay.”

It was Ligurs turn to fall silent, gazing down at the bottom of his mug.

Michael took a deep unnecessary breath. “I’m sorry. That was snappish.”

“Hell isn’t what it used to be either...” Ligur said quietly, and Michael froze to listen. “In the beginning we rebelled, and you know how that went.” Michael nodded stiffly. “I dunno what I expected, but it wasn’t what we got.

“It’s just more rules down there, and no one will admit it but it’s all the same bureaucracy of Heaven with a bad paint job and worse smells. Being a Duke isn’t all that impressive, but there are still plenty of demons who would jump at the chance to replace me. Gotta keep my eyes open.

“Sure, there are fun parts. I like the killing, and the torture, don’t get me wrong. But after a while it gets… tiring.” He furrows his brow, and the next words that leave his lips are said so softly Michael isn’t even sure they were said at all,. “Sometimes I ask myself why I Fell at all. Why I thought it was a good idea to Rebel. I ask myself…. Was it worth it?”

Michael had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Instead, Michael pulled out a sleek device several centuries ahead of any Earthly counterpart and handed it to Ligur. It was open to a blank contact form.

Wordlessly, Ligur entered his information and handed it back.

Michael considered his name on the screen for a moment, before deleting it and replacing it with “Lizard Breath”

Michael burst into giggles.

::

It took Michael another hundred years or so to actually work up the nerve to call him. It had been a moment of weakness, tensions rising as murmurs of the end times started up. There were rumors that the Antichrist had already been born, and Michael had to know for sure.

They met at a diner in Des Moines, all loud colors, greasy food and greasier booths.

“You can’t tell anyone I knowingly agreed to meet an angel.”

A predictable opener. “Like I would ever tell anyone I agreed to see a demon. I shudder to think what the consequences could be.”

“Yeah yeah, fair enough. I’d get my ass handed to me if any of my lot found out.”

“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

“Like I trust a word that comes out of that holy mouth of yours.”

“Of course you can trust me. I’m an angel.”

Ligur snorted and took a too-big bite of cheeseburger, “You funna odor soemfin?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Michael chided, wincing as crumbs fell from his mouth onto the table. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?” He asked after swallowing.

“The Antichrist? Is it… has it been born?”

“Oh yeah,” he grinned, that too-familiar grin. “Delivered it myself. Well, part of the way. Crowley got to do the honors of actually placing the brat. Lucky bastard.”

Michael nodded slowly. “So it’s really happening,” it’s said with a mixture of awe and relief, but also a curious pang of… regret? “The end of days.”

“Yeah, the end of days,.” He agreed, and took another bite with enthusiasm,. “Ifs gomma be yuuuge!”

Michael was still practicing how to perform a perfect eyeroll, but got very close. “Well then, we better make sure it goes smoothly.”

“What’re you talkin’ about, we?” Ligur asked, immediately suspicious.

“Well, we’re definitely opponents, and when the final war breaks out don’t expect any mercy from me,” Michael began,. “But I don’t see why we can’t… On the off chance there’s an update, something happens, it might… benefit us both to keep each other informed. That’s all I’m saying.”

“You mean like…” Ligur actually paused before taking his next bite, contemplating his response,. “Like a back-channel?”

“Sure, a back channel,.” Michael nodded,. “Just in case.”

“... right. One condition.”

Michael tapped perfectly rounded nails against the plastic table. “What is it?”

“Order something.”

“Why?”

“I’ve only known you to drink once. You indulged, let your wings down, got freaky. Well, freaky for an angel. It was fun. Let loose, break another rule, and we’ll talk.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very balanced deal to me.” Michael’s tapping fingers hadn’t ceased.

Ligur took yet another bite and asked “Whut do you efpec me do do?”

“Stop talking with food in your mouth and you have a deal.”

Ligur looked pleased and annoyed in equal parts, and Michael had to admit it was very entertaining to watch these two emotions battle it out on his face. Eventually, he swallowed and nodded. “Fine.”

Michael ordered a vanilla milkshake, Ligur insisted on adding fries to the order, and taught Michael how to get a decent scoop of the ice cream with multiple fries at once. It was messy, and Michael’s fingers ended up sticky and cold.

It was the nicest afternoon Michael could ever remember having.

::

The news of Ligur’s demise was somehow both a shock in its own right, and a shock that it engendered such a response at all.

Michael had called his number right after Gabriel returned from the human village where the Antichrist had failed to End the World. It had just been a check-in, an “Are your superiors as furious as mine?” sort of call.

“Who the fuck is this?” had been the answer. The voice was unfamiliar, lower in pitch and yet somehow more nasal.

“I was looking for Ligur. This is his number, yes?”

Whoever it was on the other end was quiet for a moment. “Is this a joke?” He asked, the edge of a threat in his voice. “Because I don’t like jokes.”

“I assure you, it’s no joke.”

“Ligur’s dead. Holy water. Now who the fuck would Ligur save as ‘fusswings’?”

“Holy water,” Michael breathed softly, “You’re sure?”

“... Saw it ‘appen mesself,” The stranger sounded… bereft.  
Michael ended the call.

“Holy water,” Michael whispered into the nearly empty room. Angels don’t get much in the way of personal space in heaven, even Archangels or Cherubim. They don’t sleep, don’t eat, don’t technically need rest or time off. An office with opaque walls is about the best one can hope for. Michael’s was decorated sparsely, with a cup for pens, a calendar that would look entirely incomprehensible to a human, and a bonsai on a table next to the door so it could be seen from the desk.

Michael set the phone down and breathed quietly, to try to calm the thoughts clawing to the surface.

First point of fact: The world did not end.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not at all surprisingly, Michael wasn’t so concerned about this.

Sure, the world didn’t end, thousands of years of careful planning and machinations down the proverbial drain. The forces of Heaven were already feeling the loss, reeling in the vacuum of sense or direction. It would follow that Hell may be in a similar state of discombobulation, though that would likely require some fact-gathering. Perhaps Ligur would-

No. That’s right, he was gone; second point of fact.

How strange.

Very few angels (or demons for that matter) had ever actually died. Plenty had been discorporated or imprisoned, but permanent death was so rare that Michael couldn’t remember the last one aside from an unfortunate run-in between an Earth agent and a demon some four hundred years ago. Before that- probably the Rebellion.

Where do Angels go when they Die? What about Demons?

For Humans, that was easy. They went to Heaven, or to Hell, occasionally some midling soul got shoved in Purgatory to wait out eternity in mediocrity. But what about the beings that already lived in those places?

“Where are you?” The words slipped out unbidden, but Michael wasn’t in the mood to try to take them back. “Bollocks, now you’ve got me asking questions.

“Why are you here? How do you keep the rain off? Why haven’t you smote me yet? Was Falling worth it?’ What is it with demons and questions anyway? Why is it such a big deal with your lot? Why can’t you just leave well enough alone!?” The tiny bonsai hit the wall before Michael was even aware of picking it up. It found itself miracled back into its rightful place with an apologetic coo that quickly turned into a sob.

Michael sank to the ground, knees tucked underneath, and suddenly wanted a deep breath.

“We weren’t friends. We weren’t exactly even acquaintances. We barely knew each other. But for some reason it still feels so fucking wrong that you’re not here.”

Michael couldn’t think of anything else to say after that. Couldn’t really muster up the energy for it anyway.

Time has little meaning in Heaven, beyond what you make of it.

It still felt like an eternity before Michael finally got up off the floor and left, softly touching the bonsai in apology before the door swung shut.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wondering about a fic like this since I first watched the series so here it finally is. 👀
> 
> If you feel like it, please take a look at fuck yeah good omens characters! Discord (Possibly to be renamed), a server designed to celebrate all the Good Omens characters who aren’t Aziraphale and Crowley. Of course we love our angel/demon pair in cahoots, but we also love Anathema and Uriel and Ligur and Shadwell! Unfortunately, they all get a little lost in the tidal wave of Az/Cro. So we can share works and meta and other fan content about all of the rest of them here c:
> 
> Also, if you feel like getting your heart ripped out a little more: here’s some art on tumblr I found that might resonate with the last vignette over here!
> 
> A big thank you to  
> [PeturbingPrism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeturbingPrism/profile) and [ChubbyHornedEquine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbyHornedEquine/profile) for beta-ing for me!


End file.
